My Husband's Graveyard Gift Ended Our Marriage

My husband, Brody Singer, is the deputy director of a hospital and is known for being level-headed. He is so levelheaded that on the very day I miscarry, he still chooses to take Isabelle Wood, his late rescuer's widow, to look at cemetery plots first. He says, "She's been dreaming about David a lot lately, and it's making her uneasy. You have nurses over there. I'll be right back." Lying in my hospital bed, I open the location he sends me. It's an upscale cemetery with a double burial plot. The permanent maintenance fee costs 18,000 dollars. I text him back, "Nice choice. The grave is located in a bustling commercial district." He doesn't reply, but the comments floating before my eyes start answering for him. "Don't be so sarcastic. He just thinks his rescuer died too young and feels sorry that his widow has to spend the rest of her life alone." "He only married Roxanne out of convenience. Isabelle is his true soulmate and the one he secretly loves with all his heart." "Later, he'll make Roxanne sign papers to sell their home, saying the money is for Isabelle's retirement. The reason he gives is that they are still young and can easily earn money again." As the nurse hooks me up to an IV, I feel a chill on the back of my hand. I think of my wedding ring. Back then, Brody told me doctors shouldn't wear anything too expensive because it gets in the way during surgery. So my ring costs a mere 2,900 dollars. Today, he swipes his card and pays 18,000 dollars without hesitation when Isabelle says she wants to buy burial plots. I tuck the IV tubing closer beneath my sleeve and send my lawyer a message. "Draft a divorce agreement for me. Also, look into my husband's hotel records and spending history." After sending it, I quickly follow up with another text. "Move fast. He's in a hurry to repay his debt of gratitude, and he's burning through money pretty quickly." Chapter 1 Half an hour later, the hospital room door was pushed open. Brody Singer walked in with Isabelle Wood, who was only two years older than him. Back then, David Carrell, who had once saved Brody's life, had married her. Who would have thought that less than two years later, David would die in an accident? Today, Isabelle wore a fitted white silk dress. The corners of her eyes were slightly red, making her look like a fragile white flower that had just been drenched by the rain. Brody's hand hovered around the small of her back in an extremely inappropriate and possessive gesture. They looked just like a pair of star-crossed lovers who had just lost their child. Meanwhile, I, the one who had just come off the operating table, looked like an outsider. Brody spoke perfunctorily, and his gaze remained glued to Isabelle. "How are you feeling, Roxanne? Isabelle thought of David while picking out a cemetery plot today. She cried so hard she could barely breathe. I couldn't get away." If it hadn't been for the comments tipping me off, I never would have noticed the unfastened button at the collar of Isabelle's dress or the suspicious red mark on the side of Brody's neck. So the cemetery plot viewing somehow ended up in bed, huh? I leaned against the pillow and smiled faintly. "I'm fine. It was just a miscarriage. Isabelle's health is more important. Did you settle on the cemetery plot?" Brody froze, and a trace of poorly concealed awkwardness flashed through his eyes. "Y-Yeah, we did. David died young. He once risked his life to help me, so the least I can do is make sure he has a good resting place here and give Isabelle some peace of mind." Isabelle wiped away her tears delicately and took the opportunity to collapse into Brody's arms. "Brody, it's too expensive. I really don't deserve it…" Brody patted her back repeatedly, his heart going out to her. Watching the two of them cling to each other as if no one else was there made my stomach churn. Nevertheless, I kept my expression perfectly composed. "Isabelle, please don't say that. You deserve the very best," I said. I looked at Brody with utter sincerity and went on, "Actually, 18,000 dollars is nothing. If you want to repay a debt of gratitude, how can you just buy an empty plot? "What about the finest premium granite, the fee for having a renowned geomancer choose the location, and the annual fees of prayer rites for the deceased? Have you arranged all of that too? I heard all it takes is a 60,600-dollar one-time payment for the whole package." Brody was taken aback. "But… But that's over budget." My expression immediately turned serious. "That won't do! You're the deputy director now. How can you skimp on something like this? If word gets out, people might say that you look respectable on the surface but secretly mistreat the young and beautiful widow of his rescuer. "You're up for promotion to director next month. Your personal conduct will be part of the evaluation!" Caught completely off guard by my lecture on loyalty and gratitude, Brody felt so conflicted that his face flushed and paled rapidly. His reputation and career prospects were his greatest weaknesses. He mumbled, "You're right, but I don't have that much liquid cash on hand…" I offered generously, "Honey, don't we have that 50,000-dollar fixed deposit we set aside to buy a car? Use that money for Isabelle first." Brody said, "But that's in your name…" I flashed him a gentle smile and replied, "I'll withdraw it. Spending money on the widow of your rescuer is only right." I had forced Brody onto the moral high ground, leaving him no way to back down. He could only grit his teeth and nod. Isabelle looked at me as if she were looking at an idiot who had been taken advantage of but remained obliviously clueless as to the reality. I lowered my eyes, concealing the icy hatred in them. I had already transferred all of 50,000 dollars to Jordan Keller, who was my friend and lawyer, last night for asset protection. Tomorrow, I would take Brody to the bank and let him watch with his own eyes as a "system malfunction" prevented us from withdrawing the money. Then, I would force him to take out a high-interest loan to pay 60,600 dollars for the graves. After all, my scumbag of a husband loved having a forbidden and immoral affair. If I didn't help him drain every last penny from his pockets, how could I possibly do justice to such twisted devotion? Chapter 2 On the day I was discharged from the hospital, I took a cab home by myself. The moment I opened the front door, I caught the scent of a cloyingly sweet women's perfume. There was a brand-new pair of burgundy high heels in the entryway, and Isabelle's suitcase was piled all over the living room couch. Isabelle was wearing the silk robe I had only worn once. Her fair legs were bare as she leaned over the coffee table, eating cherries. Brody was crouched in front of her. Holding a napkin, he casually wiped the red juice from the corner of her mouth, his gaze lingering on her with unmistakable affection. The moment they saw me walk in, they sprang apart as if they had been electrocuted. Without the slightest embarrassment, Isabelle pulled together the collar of my robe and said coyly, "You're back, Roxanne. Brody said since I kept having nightmares while living alone in my old house, he insisted that I move in with you two. You don't mind, do you?" The comments began popping up before my eyes again. "Here it comes! Now they can officially live together under the same roof! Next, Brody will use Roxanne's recovery from her miscarriage as an excuse to give the master bedroom to the pitiful widow." "In the original novel, Roxanne adamantly refused. Brody slapped her and accused her of having a filthy mind for questioning the innocent nature of his attempts to repay a debt of gratitude." Sure enough, Brody stood up and cleared his throat. He said self-righteously, "Roxanne, you just had a miscarriage and need peace and quiet to recover. The master bedroom gets plenty of sunlight and has its own bathroom, so let's give it to Isabelle. You can move into the guest room. That way, I won't disturb you when I toss and turn at night." Brody wanted to kick his wife, who had just suffered a miscarriage, into the guest room so his beautiful widowed lady friend could sleep in our bed. He wasn't even trying to hide it anymore. Unlike in the original novel, I didn't question him hysterically. I simply nodded calmly and said, "Sure." Brody breathed a sigh of relief, and there was even a hint of approval in the way he looked at me. "Good. I'm glad you're being reasonable." Then, I changed the subject as I walked toward the master bedroom. "However, the mattress in the master bedroom was custom-made for me. It's on the softer side. Isabelle has a bad back, so she definitely won't feel comfortable sleeping on it." I looked at Brody encouragingly. "Since Isabelle is going to be staying here long-term, shouldn't you replace the furniture with a set made of solid hardwood? Also, all the bedding in the master bedroom is silk. Isabelle might slip and fall if she gets up to use the bathroom at night. "You should buy a few sets of high-end cotton bedding. We can't possibly allow Isabelle to suffer while she's staying with us, can we?" The smile on Brody's face froze. "H-Hardwood furniture? That'll cost tens of thousands of dollars. I just paid for the cemetery plot…" I raised my voice slightly and stared into his eyes. "What? You can't bear to spend the money? You already bought a 60,600-dollar cemetery plot. What's a bit more money for furniture? Don't tell me you're only willing to spend money on the dead but not on the living." Panic flashed through Isabelle's eyes. Biting her lip, she looked at Brody. "I don't need any of that. I'm fine using the old furniture…" I spoke with righteous conviction, "Isabelle, don't try to save money for him! He's about to be evaluated for promotion to director. If his colleagues find out that he's being stingy over something as simple as taking care of you, they might think he's treating you well just for show." Brody couldn't stand anyone accusing him of putting on an act. And in front of the woman he loved, he was even more determined to play the generous spender. "I'll buy it! I'll place the order tomorrow," he said firmly. That night, I moved into the guest room happily and locked the door behind me. Brody was forced to make do with the living room couch for the night. Meanwhile, I had called a secondhand furniture dealer, who came and hauled away the mattress from the master bedroom that very night. Since my bed wasn't good enough for them, they could sleep on bare wooden boards. For the next two weeks, I fully embraced a widowed woman's sexless lifestyle as I recovered from my miscarriage. Every day, I slept until I felt like waking up and ordered upscale takeout for all three meals. Chapter 3 Isabelle was obviously not satisfied with merely taking over the master bedroom. She wanted to establish herself as the true lady of the house. On the very first morning, she knocked on my door. Her frail voice carried a hint of provocation as she requested, "Roxanne, my blood sugar is a little low. Could you get up and make me a yogurt smoothie bowl? Brody said the smoothie bowl you make is the best." I immediately took out my phone and ordered her a meal from the most expensive breakfast diner nearby. One meal cost 680 dollars. I said, "Isabelle, I'm still recovering from my miscarriage. I can't move around much. But Brody said we must not mistreat you in any way, so make do with the food I ordered for now." When Brody came home from work that evening and saw the takeout bill on the table, his expression soured. What distressed him even more was seeing Isabelle leaning against the couch, rubbing her stomach and whining that she had a stomachache from the greasy takeout. Brody felt sorry that she had to suffer. He immediately turned on me and scolded, "Roxanne, you spent almost 1,000 dollars on takeout for one meal! Couldn't you have gotten up and made Isabelle something light? She's so frail!" I sat at the dining table and sipped my soup leisurely. "Honey, you misunderstood. That was for Isabelle. She said she had low blood sugar, so I specifically ordered a lobster caviar frittata for her. Are you upset about the money?" I sighed, my eyes reddening slightly. "If you think I was wrong to spend money on Isabelle to help you repay your debt of gratitude, then I'll drag myself out of bed tomorrow despite being sick and cook for her. But I might permanently damage my health and never be able to have children again…" Having children had always been a sensitive subject for Brody. His expression shifted, and he had no choice but to swallow his anger. "It's not that I'm worried about the money. I'm just afraid takeout isn't hygienic." I immediately went along with it. "Then, you should get up early tomorrow and cook for Isabelle. She'll definitely be happy to eat something you made yourself." From that day on, he got up at 6:00 am every morning and fumbled around the kitchen making breakfast. When he came home in the evenings, he had to prepare dinner for Isabelle too. I sat nonchalantly in the living room and watched as he held a bowl, cooling each spoonful by blowing on it carefully before feeding it to Isabelle. He even casually put the spoon Isabelle had eaten from into his own mouth to check the temperature. This nauseating, twisted intimacy played out right under my nose every single day. Comments floated before my eyes. "Holy crap! In the original novel, Brody gaslit Roxanne into depression at this point. Now, Roxanne is turning the tables and bleeding this scumbag dry!" After half a month of running himself ragged every day while maxing out two credit cards to pay the high-interest loans, Brody's eyes had become deeply sunken. I figured the timing was about right, so I took a document and knocked on the study door. "Brody, there's something I'd like to discuss with you." He was looking over a collection notice irritably. "What is it?" I placed a postnuptial agreement in front of him and said, "Isabelle's expenses have been pretty high lately, and you still have to repay the money you borrowed for the cemetery plot." A comment immediately followed. "Someone give the queen a cigarette! Hurry up and take out more high-interest loans, scumbag! Borrow as much as you can! I live for this!" I continued, "I did the math, and we're almost at the point where we can't cover the household expenses anymore. To keep your debt problems from affecting me in the future and to protect the last safety net our family has, we should separate our assets. "Transfer this house to me, and I'll use my personal savings to help you get a 300,000-dollar low-interest bank loan. The money will be deposited into your account so you can use it to cover your expenses for now. "That way, even if you can't repay your debts and get sued in the future, at least the house will still be with me, and Isabelle won't end up homeless." Brody looked at me warily. "You want me to transfer the house to you?" I looked him straight in the eyes, my voice sincere and filled with concern. "I'm doing this for your own good. If the house stays in your name and your creditors come knocking on the door demanding that you sell it, you'll be pressured into selling it. "But if the house is in my name, you'll have an excuse not to. Besides, that 300,000 dollars is real money that will solve your immediate financial problems." Brody stared at the promise of 300,000 dollars in cash. Thinking about how strapped for money he had been lately, he finally relented. In his arrogance, he believed I loved him so much that I had not only tolerated Isabelle making things difficult for me but had also constantly gone out of my way to protect his reputation. There was no way I could ever betray him. He agreed, "Fine. I'll transfer the ownership tomorrow." After the house was officially under my name, the 300,000 dollars I promised immediately appeared in his account. But what Brody didn't know was that I had taken out an online loan using his information, so the debt was still entirely his. Not only had I gotten the house transferred to me, but I hadn't even spent a single cent. Chapter 4 Just when I thought I could proceed with the next stage of settling the score as planned, something unexpected happened. That afternoon, I had just reached the front door when I heard Isabelle and Brody arguing fiercely inside. There was a trace of panic in Isabelle's voice. "Brody, Bill came looking for me again. He said if I don't give him 50,000 dollars, he'll expose everything and make a scene at your hospital!" Brody's voice was lowered, intense annoyance seeping through every word he said. "Why isn't he dead yet? You were already fooling around with him before you married David, and now he's back to blackmail you?" I raised an eyebrow outside the door. Well, well. Now that was quite the bombshell. So, Isabelle wasn't some pure and innocent widow after all. The comments popped up right on cue. "Major bombshell incoming! Isabelle used to be an escort. She was secretly hooking up with another man behind David's back. Now that man is back for more money!" "Brody knows the truth, but he has a savior complex. He thinks Isabelle is the victim, so he's been hiding everything from everyone and paying off her debts for her. Even David's death back then might have had something to do with that man." I leaned against the wall and listened to what was happening inside. "Brody, please help me one last time. Mortgage the house and get me 50,000 dollars. I promise I'll make him disappear forever!" Isabelle pleaded desperately. "The house… It's already been transferred to Roxanne." Brody raked his fingers irritably through his hair. Isabelle shrieked, "What? Are you crazy? You gave the house to that woman? What am I supposed to do? If she kicks you out, you won't even have a place to live!" Brody was still as confident as ever. "She won't. She loves me too much. She only did it to shield me from the debt." Isabelle began throwing a tantrum. "No! You have to make her mortgage the house and get the money. Brody, I'm pregnant!" Standing outside the door, I felt my mind go blank following a loud buzz. Brody lowered his voice, anxiety evident in his tone. "Are you crazy? Didn't I tell you to take the pills every time?" Isabelle said, "I secretly stopped taking them. David has been dead for so many years. I've had enough of sneaking around. I want to have your child. Wouldn't it be better if we could finally be together openly?" Brody hissed in exasperation, "Openly? How exactly do you expect us to be together openly? You want the whole world to know I got my rescuer's widow pregnant? Do you want me to become a director or not? If this gets out, everyone will condemn the two of us!" Dead silence followed. After a long while, Isabelle began to cry. "Then, what are you planning to do? Make me get an abortion? Brody, this is our flesh and blood! When that bitch was carrying your child, you were ruthless enough to put mifepristone in her soup and force her to miscarry! "Now that it's my turn, are you going to kill our child too?" A loud crash ensued. It sounded as if Brody had smashed something. He growled, "Shut up! Weren't you the one who cried and said you couldn't stand her carrying my child and forced me to do it? Nothing can go wrong at a critical time like this. This child has to be aborted!" Outside the door, every drop of blood in my body seemed to freeze. My stomach churned so violently that I felt as if I were about to vomit up my internal organs. At last, I understood the whole truth. No wonder he had obsessively made nourishing soups for me during that period. No wonder I had suddenly suffered unexplained abdominal pain and massive bleeding. No wonder he had specifically chosen the day of my miscarriage to buy that double burial plot. It had never been about repaying a debt of gratitude. The names on that contract for the double burial plot definitely weren't David and Isabelle. They were Brody and Isabelle! He had used my money and sacrificed my child's life. All so he could prove his devotion to his secret, forbidden widowed lover and promise that they would share the same bed in life and the same grave in death. They weren't merely a shameless couple who had repaid kindness with betrayal and crossed every moral boundary. They were also the murderers who had killed my child! My eyes turned bloodshot as I clamped a hand tightly over my mouth, refusing to let myself make even the slightest sound. My nails dug deep into my palm, drawing glaring streaks of blood. With trembling hands, I tapped the record button on my phone, preparing to capture more evidence of their crimes. But just then… "Who's out there?" Rapid footsteps sounded from the living room, heading straight for the front door. I stood in the narrow hallway with nowhere to hide. Following a click, the door was suddenly yanked open. Brody's face appeared behind it, his eyes filled with such viciousness that he looked like a demon. Behind him, Isabelle stood barefoot in the middle of the living room, her clothes disheveled, staring at me in terror.